


Together Making One

by zenamored



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Chef!Zayn, Fluff, M/M, slight Niall Horan/Harry Styles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-02 02:08:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4041679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenamored/pseuds/zenamored
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another thing he really likes about being with Zayn—he’ll never go hungry while he’s around.</p><p>
  <i>Four times Zayn cooks for Liam and one time Liam returns the favor.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Together Making One

**Author's Note:**

> I saw an article on Tumblr about Zayn cooking a lot and totally ran with it. Hope this is okay!
> 
> All mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Title from Kodaline's "The One."

**1\. Samosas**  

Malik’s Kitchen has its soft opening on an airy spring afternoon, offering free food to the first 100 people in line. It’s a huge success, with far more than 100 people lining the block and stretching around the corner. The bright yellow _Grand Opening!!!!!_ banner across their storefront flutters in the breeze, catching Liam’s eye every time he passes by the diner’s front windows. Excited chattering from down the street drifts in through the door every time a new customer enters.

Naturally, Louis is furious.

“This means _war_ ,” he intones, staring out the window at the spectacle down the way. “They’re going to put us out of business.”

Liam is tempted to point out that his argument seems invalid today. They’ve actually gotten significantly more business than usual from the overflow of people who don’t want to brave the line at Malik’s, but saying that would be pretty much pointless. He can tell from the look in his eyes that Louis has a Plan brewing, has had one in the works for the past couple of weeks since they saw the construction that started at the new building down the street.

“Liam…”

“Absolutely not.”

Louis nods sagely, like he’s brainstorming ways to convince Liam to go along with his ridiculous plan and not like they both know that Liam’s going to do anything he says anyway.

- 

A few weeks later Liam is wondering how exactly his life turned out the way it did. He thinks of what the Liam from five months ago—the one ready to quit after being “jokingly” pelted with food by his own boss for the hundredth time—would be thinking right now.

Louis is long past the desire for total annihilation, now just genuinely curious about the place across the way. Instead of going over to introduce himself like any normal human being would _—“What’s the fun in that?”—_ he chooses to send Liam to spy on them instead. Obviously.

“Reconnaissance,” Louis whispers to him, shooing him out of the kitchen and toward the door.

“Big word, that,” Liam replies mildly, swerving to avoid the wet dishtowel Louis flings at his face. It lands on the ground with an unpleasant _plop_ and Liam picks it up before Niall trips over it and scares the customers with his swearing (again).

“Just get on with it, Payno. Be _discreet._ ”

“You’re welcome,” he throws over his shoulder as he starts to push open the door, bell jingling merrily.

“Shit, wait—“

Louis rips off the bright red apron Liam’s sporting, ignoring his hiss of protest as the straps pull on his neck painfully.

“ _Reconnaissance_ ,” he whispers again, and Liam laughs before he can help himself. Louis waves the apron in farewell as Liam steps out.

When he walks into the restaurant, he’s immediately assaulted by the smell of food, some mix of spices—fiery and fragrant and definitely not unwelcome. His stomach growls and he’s reminded of the fact that he hasn’t eaten anything in hours. 

The girl at the counter can’t be any older than sixteen, he thinks. She’s scrolling lazily through her phone as he approaches and when he’s close she startles, eyes widening as she looks at him and blush staining her cheeks. The phone slips from her slack fingers and clatters to the ground.

“Wow. I—welcome to Malik’s Kitchen, how can I help you?” she stammers, obviously mortified.

“You alright, love?” he asks and she vehemently nods, eyes still glued to his face.

Reassured, he looks up at the menu with pursed lips, surprised to see that it’s all hand-drawn, names and accompanying pictures etched onto giant boards above the counter. Whoever did it must be bloody talented. He quickly realizes that he can’t really recognize a lot of the dishes, and grins bashfully at the girl taking his order.

“I’m a bit out of my element, to be quite honest. What do you recommend?”

“Well, we have a lot of people ordering the samosas,” she flusters. “To start off.”

“I’ll take two orders of those then. To go,” he adds with a smile, digging for his wallet to pay. He sighs in relief when he realizes that he has just enough to pay with bills. He’s definitely going to make Louis pay the next time they go out in exchange for roping him into this ridiculous plan of his.

The girl—“Safaa,” she says shyly—hands him a buzzer that’ll go off when his food is done. _So high-tech_ , a voice inside his head thinks, sounding suspiciously like Lou. He thanks her and sits at an empty table to wait, pretending not to notice Safaa furiously texting from her perch in the front. Another girl that looks a lot like her comes out from the back and they spend a few minutes trying not to look like they’re staring at him and completely failing. He waves at them, laughing, and they flush—pretend to look at something particularly riveting above his head instead.

The restaurant’s not as busy as it usually is, since it’s around four in the afternoon. The few people in there are scattered throughout the place, groups chattering in booths and even a few individuals scattered at smaller tables, typing at their laptops and trying to get work done. It straddles the line between cozy and industrial, clean and casual—someplace Liam wouldn’t mind frequenting, to be quite honest. There’s this _sick_ graffiti art that fills an entire wall of the place, and he spends a good few minutes looking at the designs and trying to figure out what it all means. It’s too cool for him, something that should be up on a wall in New York or something.

He jumps when the buzzer goes off, rattling across the table before he grabs it and walks over to the counter where Safaa’s waiting with his food.

“The samosas come with chutney,” she explains, showing him two small containers before she puts them in the bag. “You can like, dip them in it if you like. The green one’s like, a little spicier and the brown one’s a bit sweet.” She ties the bag neatly and hands it to him, giggling when their hands brush.

 He thanks her, and he definitely thinks that she flutters her eyelashes at him as she tells him to have a nice day.

 -

 The food smells great, and he’s tempted to just stop and eat it by the side of the road, pride be damned. He’s a man on a mission though, and has to report back to Louis.

The diner’s empty when he enters, and Louis whips open the kitchen door as soon as he hears the bells jingling in the front. He brandishes the take-out bag and Louis pumps his fist in victory as Liam makes his way over to a table in the corner.

 “Brilliant, Payno,” he grins proudly, and Liam flushes.

Niall must have some sixth sense for free food, because he ambles in just as they’re opening the boxes, fork in hand. Well.

The samosas are triangular shaped, fried and stuffed with some sort of potato filling that Niall takes to immediately, finishing one in a matter of seconds—“Niall you _wanker_ , save some for the rest of us.”

“It’s _really_ nice, really cool—you really just need to see it in person,” Liam tells Louis, laughing at the grimace he gets in reply.

“You don’t even serve the same type of food,” Niall points out, waving his fork at Louis. “Quit making battles.”

“And they’re all really nice too,” Liam continues, raising his voice a notch. “I think it’s a family business or something. “

“We are too,” Louis argues, and Liam feels a soppy grin blooming over his face at the _we_ , at what he’s implying.

 “This is great,” Niall mumbles through a mouthful of food. Louis pulls a face.

 “Shall we?”

Louis spears a samosa with Niall’s stolen fork and Liam just grabs one with his fingers (he’s not even sure if it’s supposed to be eaten like that or not), popping open the lid of the green chutney in the meanwhile. Louis salutes him solemnly and they each take a bite at the same time.

 And well—

 “Fuck,” Louis says reluctantly.

 It’s incredible.

 

* * *

 

**2\. Chicken Biryani**

 The thing is, besides the fact that the place serves amazing food and that it’s family-owned, nobody really knows anything else about Malik’s Kitchen. It has unbelievably positive Yelp reviews, and the local paper gushes about its “clever twist on the traditional,” lamenting the fact that the chef refuses to do any interviews or features. Nobody outside of the staff has actually seen him in person. Louis is convinced that he’s some sort of robot or something—“Being able to cook like that can’t be _human_ , Payno.”

It’s infuriating. And because Louis is an absolute donut and incapable of ever doing things the easy way, Liam spends an unhealthy amount of his free time trying to get a glimpse of the elusive Chef Malik on his behalf while Louis keeps an eye on the diner. His “missions” for the most part just mean talking to Safaa or her older sister Waliyha while working on his personal goal of trying everything on the menu.

Not like Lou needs to know.

-

There’s a shaded courtyard not too far from them, another place where diners from the neighboring restaurants can take their food to eat. Liam likes to spend his breaks there sometimes because he gets antsy being in one place for too long. There’s a bit of grass overlooking the array of tables, and Liam likes to settle there, sprawl under the trees and lose himself in a different kind of bustle.

Today there’s no Niall or Louis to keep him company, but he’ll be damned if he stays inside when the weather looks so nice. It’s quite peaceful, actually, being able to people watch and take in the sun.

“Pardon,” he hears a minute later, and he looks up, startled.

Because the world apparently hates him, the sun chooses that moment to break between the clouds, full-force—making him squint against the brightness that suddenly invades his vision. There’s a figure blinking down at him, silhouetted against the light. The boy tilts his head in confusion when Liam doesn’t answer, staring dumbly up at this shining young thing standing above him. Looking directly at the sun would actually be less painful.

“Yeah?” Liam scrambles up, brushing off his jeans.

“You got a light?” the guy asks, running a hand through his hair and fidgeting, looking like he almost wishes he didn’t ask. Liam doesn’t blame him.

“Yeah!” he replies, too quickly. “Yeah, I do.”

He searches his pockets for his lighter, feeling relieved when his fingers brush against it. He offers it to the stranger, hyper aware of the points of contact between them as their fingers brush. Liam can’t help but watch as he lights up, using his hand to cup the end carefully and protect it from the slight breeze.

He inhales slowly, lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, before he blows the smoke carefully away from Liam.

“Thanks,” he says, extending the lighter back toward Liam, who takes it carefully from him.

“You new to here?” Liam asks, wanting him to stay a bit longer, and to prove that his vocabulary extends to more than three words.

“A bit,” the stranger smiles slightly around his next drag. “I work down there,” he elaborates, gesturing vaguely toward the stretch of buildings Liam just came from.

“Me too,” Liam says excitedly, pointing toward the diner. “I’m from Tommo’s.”

“Sick,” he nods. “M’name’s Zayn. Malik.”

“Oh! You must know Safaa and Waliyha, then.”

“Yeah, they’re my younger sisters. Sorry you have to deal with that lot.” He can’t hide the affection in his voice, the way his eyes soften when he talks about them. Not like Liam’s looking.

“Oh no, they’re lovely,” Liam flusters. “But I think Safaa’s been laughing at how many times I’ve come in this past week.”

Zayn’s eyes flicker in recognition and Liam thinks he’s going to spontaneously combust from the way he studies him from under his lashes.

“Ah, _you’re_ Liam, then?”

“Famous already,” Liam notes, bashful. He rubs the back of his neck, for lack of anything to do.

“I reckon they’re already halfway in love with you,” Zayn laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Can’t see why,” Liam shrugs, giggling. He feels heat slowly rising to his face.

“Nah, give yourself more credit, _Leeyum_.”

He likes the way Zayn says his name, stretching the syllables slightly like he’s savoring the way it sounds in his mouth.

Why haven’t they met before?

“Say, what exactly do you—“

His phone interrupts them, ringing shrilly from his pocket. He swears a bit under his breath, realizing that he was expected back five minutes ago.

“Sorry, I—“

“I’ll let you get back, then?” Zayn offers, biting his lip. Liam wants to think he’s as disappointed at the prospect of him leaving as he is.

“Wish I could stay longer, but Tommo’ll have my head if I’m not there before the rush,” he replies ruefully. “See you around, Zayn?”

The grin he gets in response makes his stomach swoop, not entirely unpleasantly. He looks back at the figure leaning against the tree several times as he makes his way back. Zayn waves back, pleased, every time their eyes meet.

 

-

Of course he’s the one who’s got both of his sisters enamored, Zayn thinks, letting the back of his head smack against the trunk of the tree he’s leaning against. Good. Maybe it’ll snap him back to his senses, make sure he doesn’t burn himself at the stove later daydreaming of broad, broad shoulders and earnest brown eyes.

 _Liam_.

He plays with his lighter, flicking it on and off a few times and watching the flame come and go. He’s not usually the type to approach complete strangers, but he couldn’t help himself. There was something so completely disarming about the boy sitting underneath the tree, bopping to some invisible beat and smiling at whoever passed by with the kind of enthusiasm that could power cities. Zayn had to talk to him before he regretted not doing anything, ask for a light even when he felt the weight of his own burning a hole in his front pocket.

 _Of course_ it’d be the same Liam that Safaa and Wali have been going on about for the past few weeks, the same man who comes to their restaurant and is slowly making his way through their entire menu—Zayn’s more egotistical side preens at the thought. _So handsome, so polite, absolutely wonderful_ Liam, who had singlehandedly managed to charm half of the restaurant without even meeting a good amount of them yet. The type of person who doesn’t deserve people like Zayn associating with him because he’s a bitchass liar who needed to make up dumb excuses to even get the nerve to talk to him in the first place.

The way his stomach dropped earlier when he saw Liam rounding the corner and disappearing was already alarming in itself. He surprises himself with how much he doesn’t want to see that again, the way Liam looks walking away from him.

He groans, startling a nearby couple and causing them to walk by faster.

He’s so fucking screwed. 

-

 

Waliyha giggles at Liam when he comes in the next day and asks for an order of the chicken biryani. He smiles at her, cocking his head in question.

“It’s nothing,” she smirks, before bounding back and sticking her head in the door that leads to the kitchen.

“Bhai, chicken biryani for _Leeeeeeyum_ ,” he thinks he hears, but it’s immediately drowned out by indistinct yelling and a loud clatter of pans that makes Liam wince in sympathy.

Whatever it was, she’s definitely cackling by the time she makes it back to the counter, waving off his attempts to pay.

He asks if Zayn is working today and she gives a startled laugh.

“Did he not—”

The other guy working at the front— _Shahid_ , his nametag says—shushes her, and now Liam definitely has no idea what’s going on.

“Only time will tell,” he says to Liam emphatically before he goes to change the music playing through the restaurant’s speakers.

And he honestly doesn’t know what to say to that. He just settles for nodding some more.

When he brings the food back to the diner, he hears Niall whoop as he’s in the back picking up his apron.

“Thanks Payno,” he says, slapping his back in gratitude when Liam returns.

“I—What?” Liam glances down at the bag he’d dropped off at the front, doing a double take when he sees what Niall’s unwrapped.

It’s an extra order of samosas.

“They didn’t even charge me,” he says numbly.

Niall whistles lowly.

“Well, keep doing whatever the fuck it is you’re doing.”

 

-

There are truly no secrets in this family.

“I can’t believe you’re wooing him with _samosas_ ,” Doniya cackles at him when they’re cleaning up later that night.

Zayn flicks the water from the faucet at her and she shrieks, cursing at him. He tries to ignore the heat he can feel slowly creeping up his neck.

-

 

Everything falls into place when Liam walks into Malik’s Kitchen later that week and _finally_ sees Zayn, who’s sitting at the front and bouncing a baby in his lap as he chats with a woman standing next to him.

He startles a bit when he sees Liam, but his look of surprise quickly morphs into a smile.

“Hey,” he greets, gently grasping one of the baby’s chubby wrists and using her little hand to wave at Liam.

Devastating.

The woman—Zayn’s good friend Caroline, he learns—smiles warmly at him, and they all chat for a bit while her daughter Brooklyn tries to climb all over Zayn, looking up at him with adoring eyes. Liam really empathizes with her.

Caroline bids them farewell after a while, and Brooklyn squawks when she’s extricated from Zayn’s arms.

“Take care, beb,” Zayn calls after them both.

“Aye, Chef!” she responds easily, saluting him on her way out of the door. Baby Brooklyn shrieks her own goodbye too.

It takes a moment for her words to register, and when Liam realizes his head jerks up in surprise.

“ _Chef_?” Liam looks at Zayn, stunned.

 -

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

Louis sounds more delighted than anything, which scares Liam more than he should admit.

They’re closing up and setting the tables in preparation for the next morning. Liam tells him about Zayn— _Chef Malik_ —how they met in the courtyard, about Caroline and Baby Brooklyn and Zayn’s sheepish explanation when Liam confronted him, how he was about to tell Liam before they got interrupted by Louis’ call the other day.

Louis interrupts his extended description of how Zayn single-handedly painted that one graffiti wall in the restaurant with an upraised hand.

“Can we talk about how desperately you want to shag his brains out?” he says, eyes glittering.

Liam sputters, knocking over a pile of menus.

-

It goes a bit like this:

Zayn visits Tommo’s on his day off, bringing along a guy named Harry who asks them if they serve kale salad and makes Niall choke with laughter on his sip of water. Louis looks appropriately scandalized and Liam tries his hardest not to study Harry and Zayn’s every move around each other.

They all go out and get shitfaced the next week, and it sort of devolves from there, really. It takes a few drinks to get Louis to admit to Zayn that he’s glad that he’s not a robot, that he already thinks he’s one of the coolest people he’s ever met. They grin dopily at each other for a few long seconds, nodding emphatically. _Business rivals my ass_ , Liam thinks.

Louis signs him up for karaoke and Liam leads the crowd in a weepy rendition of “A Thousand Miles” (Harry’s choice) trying not to get too emotional when he thinks of the easy way Harry had thrown his arm around Zayn’s shoulders when they first met at the diner.

“That was fucking beautiful, Payno,” Niall tells him later, and Liam avoids Zayn’s questioning gaze. He throws himself into a conversation with Harry and a drunk girl at the bar—immediately regretting it once he realizes that Harry’s demonstrating his foolproof technique for pulling his hair in a bun.

(Despite everything, he really likes Harry, which makes him feel even more like a piece of shit for feeling the way he does.)

They all get kicked out when Niall starts a chant for more shots and Louis decides that it’s a good idea to climb on one of the tables to prove his point.

Somehow they all end up splayed on the floor of Zayn’s apartment, Niall and Harry falling down first after Harry stumbles and brings Niall with him. They tangle into each other, giggling, and none of them seem too inclined to extricate themselves.

Zayn sprawls over Liam, humming absentmindedly and rubbing a stubbly cheek against his chest.

“About fucking time,” Zayn whispers, sitting up slightly and winking as he gestures toward Niall and Harry.

If Liam breathes a bit easier after that, no one needs to know.

 

* * *

 

**3\. Chicken Pad Thai**

There are a lot of things that Zayn does that drive Liam crazy. He makes him wash all of the dishes every time he experiments with one of his recipes. When he’s not working he stains practically every clean surface with paint, doodles on Liam’s notes from class. He gets moody when he’s tired. He licks his lips too often. Liam can’t stand it.

 Granted, everything that drives him nuts is countered by all of the things he likes about Zayn—from the way he laughs at Liam’s jokes, to the way he teases his sisters and the way he looks when he’s cooking.

And he’s _always_ cooking.

“Can you drain the noodles, babe?” Zayn asks over the roaring of the vent. He’s at the stove, already frying a few things in the new wok that Harry got for him the other day.

Liam strains out the water and brings him the noodles, picking at them absentmindedly and startling a bit when Zayn grabs them from him and dumps it all in the pan, stirring quickly so none of it sticks to the sides. Liam sort of loses track of everything else he does after that, distracted by the way Zayn’s humming faintly as he stirs more ingredients in, the sheen of sweat on his skin from the heat of the stove and the brush of his lashes as he considers his work.

When Zayn thrusts a fork full of pad thai at him, asking if it needs anything else, Liam takes it, blowing at the noodles before trying.

Another thing he really likes about being with Zayn—he’ll never go hungry while he’s around.

 **“** S’good,” he grins, stealing more from the pan. Zayn swats him in the ass with a dishtowel, giggling.

**-**

Wanting Zayn is nothing new to Liam. It’s something that he’s been intimately aware of since he’s met him, that’s only flourished with time. The desire, he can control fairly well—the urge to find out what the inside of his mouth tastes like, to press his fingers into his hips. They’ve had it so good so far, being just friends, and Liam thinks of how lucky he is to have even that. It feels almost selfish to ask for more. 

It’s everything else that’s staggering, the tamer desires that have accumulated over the span of their friendship. He doesn’t want Zayn to stay over that one night—he wants him there every night. _Thank you,_ he wants to tell him, every morning when he wakes up. For the way Zayn never asks him to be any more than who he is, the easy way Liam can lay his head in his lap and talk, no reservations—knowing that he’s listening to every word. He tries to express it in every other way that he can, because he can’t say it out loud without baring his heart, the full force of what he feels. He’s not usually one to refrain from chasing after what he wants, but the weightiness of this, what’s at stake and what he can’t bear to lose, makes him want to hold onto his cards for a bit longer.

 _You spoil me_ , Zayn always says. _You know you don’t have to._

And Liam isn’t, really. It astounds him, the way Zayn always thinks he should expect less than what he deserves.

They finish the rest of the pad thai that night, and Liam tries not to make too much of the fact that Zayn’s table is always set for two these days.

-

“Come over tomorrow,” Zayn tells Liam, slinging am arm over his shoulder. Niall is barbecuing in the back while the rest of them are slumped on his couch. “Wanna try out another dish.”

“Where’s my invitation?” Louis asks.

“You’re not allowed.”

“And Liam is?”

“Louis,” Harry warns, receiving an eye roll in response.

 “I’m there to offer my humble opinion,” Liam quips.

“Please, Zayn could throw up on a plate and you’ll still tell him it’s the best thing you’ve ever eaten.”

“That’s disgusting,” Liam grimaces, and Harry cackles so violently that he almost keels over.

“That’s not a denial.”

He and Zayn both choose to ignore that, and Liam’s grateful when Harry changes the topic, still wheezing slightly with laughter.

-

When it happens, Liam doesn’t expect it.

“I really like you,” Zayn says as they’re sprawled over his couch one night and Liam’s hand freezes, fingers half-buried in Zayn’s hair.

“And I’m not brave like you—”

“Zayn,” he protests, stunned.

Zayn barrels on.

“But ever since I met you—you make me feel like I can be.”

“Zayn,” he says again, just to make sure.

He sits up, and Liam’s hand slides from his hair and back onto his lap.

“Yeah, Liam?” He’s much closer now, the unspoken question clear in his eyes.

Liam’s been wanting to answer for the longest time.

“Yeah,” he breathes, bringing his hand up to gently cup Zayn’s face. He’s still reeling, can’t believe that this is actually happening, that he lives in a world where Zayn could possibly want him in the same way he wants Zayn. He’s living this. Right now.

The first kiss is awkward, a careful brush of their lips—both of them still trying to navigate this shifting ground between them, incorporate this blooming new thing into what they already have and know.

“One more,” Zayn pleads and Liam laughs shakily, never knowing Zayn as one to beg for anything.

He gives him a smacking kiss against his cheek this time, giggling at Zayn’s squawk of protest, the way he chases his lips afterward.

“More,” Zayn repeats, greedy for it. He straddles Liam, pressing him further into the couch.

 They spend the rest of the night practicing.

 

* * *

 

**4\. Leftovers**

He’s sitting on the couch and messing around on Twitter when he hears the clink of keys in the lock. It’s almost embarrassing how quickly his head snaps up at the sound.

“Li?”

When Zayn enters the apartment and sees Liam halfway out of his seat he smiles tiredly, brandishing an all-too-familiar bag of takeaway.

“I bring leftovers.”

“My savior,” Liam cries, meeting him in the middle for a quick peck on the lips, carefully extricating the bag and putting it next to the sketches on the coffee table.

“How was your day?” he murmurs, and Zayn sighs, slowly uncoiling and leaning fully into his embrace, letting Liam carry his weight for a bit.

“Busy. Better now.”

Liam feels a chin hook over his shoulder and lets them stay there, swaying in place and burying a smile in Zayn’s hair. Zayn’s so close, though—close enough to feel and hear Liam’s stomach growling, which makes him immediately straighten.

“C’mon,” he says, grabbing the takeout and walking toward the kitchen. He sticks a few pieces of naan in their toaster oven, takes out more containers from the bag. ”You really hungry, babe?”

“Yeah,” Liam smirks, pitching his voice lower and wiggling his eyebrows at him. Zayn shakes his head and tries to look exasperated for about two seconds before he gives it up.

Liam brackets him against the counter, snuffling into his neck and generally trying to be as annoying as he can. Zayn just giggles, trying to squirm away from him and toward the leftover naan.

“Stop distracting me.”

“Can’t help it, haven’t seen you in _ages_ —“

“Two days is hardly—“

“ _Ages_.”

He seals it with a kiss, spinning him around and smiling when he feels Zayn sigh in contentment and fall into it without complaint. Two days really does feel like too long and fuck _,_ he’s missed Zayn so much. He’s so hungry for him, can’t get enough of the way they feel against each other, the way Zayn trails his hands slowly up his back, steadying.

“You’re insatiable,” Zayn tuts.

“I’ve been deprived,” Liam corrects him.

Somehow Zayn ends up on the counter, Liam between his legs. Which—yeah, there are definitely worse places to be. He tilts his face up so their lips can meet again, deepening the kiss with an ease that only comes from months of practice. Liam sneaks a hand under Zayn’s shirt, thumbing at his hip and enjoying the way Zayn shivers with it. _More_ , the depraved sex-monster side of him screams in delight. _More._

He breaks the kiss and Zayn’s whimper of complaint morphs into something more pleased when his lips trail down his neck. The knees bracketing his waist and the hand at the back of his neck tighten, keeping Liam locked in place _._ Liam feels himself flush with how much he finds himself enjoying that, as completely unnecessary as it is. Zayn is the last person who needs to worry about him going anywhere.

He pushes Zayn’s shirt further up his back, wonders if he can get away with taking it off—

“Wait.”

He looks up at Zayn and sees him sniff, brow crinkling with worry.

“Do you smell—”

 _Fuck_.

 

-

“I haven’t burnt food in _years_ ,” Zayn says mournfully, splaying back against the pillows with a huff of annoyance.

“It’s been hours since, babe. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“You’re not allowed in the kitchen anymore. Too irresistible for your own good.”

“Well I’m honored,” Liam teases, settling next to him and throwing a leg over his, wrinkling his nose a bit at the lingering smell of burnt naan. “Now go to bed." 

Zayn grumbles but actually listens to him this time, quieting down and drawing the blankets closer around them.

It’s silent for a few blissful moments, but then he can feel Liam giggling and making the bed shake. It’s both infuriating and unbearably cute.

 “You should have seen your _face,_ though—“

“Good night, Li.”

 

* * *

 

**5\. Spicy Spag Bol**

The thing is, cooking at a restaurant is fucking exhausting.

After all of this time Liam honestly doesn’t know how Louis and Zayn do it. Louis hides it well, using it as a way to burn off his seemingly limitless store of energy. Sometimes they all have to tiptoe around him for a bit when he feels tense and cornered, but in the end things usually settle back to normal.

Zayn just gets moody and lets everything simmer under the surface, which drives Liam just as mad and makes him want to stage an intervention for both him and Louis so they can discuss better ways of dealing with stress. It’s especially bad right now, when Zayn’s attempting to simultaneously cook full-time and train Doniya. It’s a temporary strain, he knows. Things will get much better once Doniya can take over for part of the time.

Nevertheless, he can’t count the number of times in the past few weeks he’s seen Zayn collapse onto the couch and pass out within seconds—how many times he’s had to carry him to his bed. The carrying, Liam doesn’t mind at all. But he hates the way he can see how everything right now is wearing Zayn thin.

He spends a good hour on the phone with Tricia while Zayn’s at the restaurant one day, rifling through the cabinets to see what they have and jotting down things he’ll need to pop by the store and get later.

The sauce is simmering on the stove when he hears the dreaded sound of the key turn in the lock. _Fuck_ , Zayn wasn’t supposed to get home until much later.

“Liam?”

“Out! You’re not supposed to be home this early,” he pouts, shooing a weary-looking Zayn out of the kitchen.

 “But—“

“Go change and watch the telly or something. I’ll be done soon.”

“What—“

“ _Go.”_

Liam practically has a heart attack a few minutes later when he feels Zayn nosing at the back of his neck, arms winding around him. 

“Smells good,” he murmurs.

He lets himself enjoy the feeling of Zayn’s smile pressed against his skin for a few glorious seconds before he kicks him out again.

“Can I help at least?” Zayn tries.

“You’ve done enough cooking today,” Liam insists, pushing Zayn onto the sofa and slowly backing out—making sure he stays put this time.

 

-

“Spicy spag bol,” Liam announces later, sweeping his arm dramatically over the table where everything’s set and the food sits, steam still rising. 

It smells so much like home.

 It takes everything in him to not crawl into Liam’s lap and thank him properly—something he’s wanted to do since he snuck into the kitchen, saw the sticky note with Liam’s careful handwriting. _Mushrooms, tomato puree, garlic,_ it said. _Chili_ —underlined three times. Zayn’s beside himself thinking of Liam leaning against the counter and painstakingly taking notes, tongue poking from the side of his mouth like it does whenever he concentrates.

It’s the thought of how much time Liam must have been spent on dinner that makes him resist, makes him sit down at the table and behave himself.

Zayn takes his first bite, all too aware of Liam eyeing him worriedly from his peripheral vision. It makes his heart swell.

“Amazing, babe,” he grins, trying to convey how much he means it. It really is. Fuck, he’s dangerously close to doing something embarrassing, like bawl his eyes out.

“ _Thank you_ —so much.”

And Liam gets it, of course he does. He visibly brightens, smile splitting his face as he sees Zayn shovel more pasta into his mouth, pleased.

- 

Liam’s devastatingly thorough with everything he does, and it’s something that Zayn’s cursing right now, clenching his jaw as Liam noses at his briefs, bringing them down just enough to nip at the heart inked on his hip. Some nights they’ll be fast and rough, Liam fucking into him until he’s struggling to catch his breath, nails biting into his back. But today Liam’s apparently decided that he wants to tease—the past hour filled with lazy kisses on his lips and down his body, everywhere but where he wants it the most. 

“Oh my _god_ ,” he whimpers, throwing an arm over his eyes when Liam finally mouths carefully over where he’s straining through the fabric of his briefs. His cheeks feel like they’re burning. He’d normally be more embarrassed by how desperate he sounds but he can’t really focus on anything but Liam, whose heavy gaze he can feel on him right now.

Liam _._

 _You’re always doing things for me, babe. I wanted to do something for you, for once_ , Liam had said during dinner.

 _You already do,_ Zayn thinks later, lips parted and hands fisted in Liam’s hair—keeping his head buried between his legs, his cheeks hallowed around him. Liam’s spare hand presses his shuddering hips to the mattress, preventing him from jerking into his mouth, grinding down more onto the fingers buried in him. _You do, you do_.

He comes with his fingers still laced in Liam’s hair and his name on his lips, trembling as Liam swallows and holds him down, crooks his fingers and continues mouthing at him until he’s whining, just on the edge of too much. 

-

Zayn looks down at him, boneless—smiling helplessly at the way Liam grins up at him from his perch on his hips, eyes crinkling at the corners.

 _I love you so much_ , Zayn thinks, and will later whisper to him before they drift off to sleep. It’s nothing they both haven’t heard before—his love for Liam is unshakeable, something so deeply-rooted in who he is. Sometimes, though, the enormity of it all hits him again, leaves him reeling for a single, gasping moment.

He loves Liam, the way he’s become his solid footing, his calm in the storm. He loves the unwavering kindness in him—the man who comes to help Wali fold napkins at the restaurant even after his own shift, the man who offers to babysit Brooklyn when Caroline’s out of town, who hooks his chin over Zayn’s shoulder as he sketches, whispering about how brilliant he is, how proud he is to be his boyfriend (when in reality it’s the other way around). The fact that he’s exactly the type of person who would call up his mum and ask for the recipe of Zayn’s favorite meal after he’s had such a shit week.

It never fails to knock the breath out of him, Liam’s dogged determination to give more of himself when just his presence is everything he already needs.

Liam has no idea—no idea of how much he’s done, already.

-

Zayn returns the favor the next morning, trying his hardest not to laugh when Liam ends up knocking all of the bottles off their bathroom counter, scattering them across the floor.

-

 

“I hear this is a good place to meet people,” someone says from above him, and Liam feels his lips twitch upward, keeping his eyes closed from where he’s sprawled over in his usual spot. He can hear the distant murmur of everyone else in the courtyard enjoying their afternoon.

“I met my boyfriend here,” Liam offers. He feels the other person flop down, settling next to him on the grass.

“You don’t say?”

“Mmmhm,” Liam hums. “He’s a chef, cooks for me all the time.” He doesn’t have to open his eyes to see the other man’s grin, feeling him shift closer.

“Sounds like quite the guy.”

“Nah,” Liam teases. “I’m only staying for the samosas.”

He’s fully expecting the attack, opening his eyes and sitting up just as Zayn tackles him, taking the impact with a huff.

“Idiot!”

“You love me.”

“That I do,” Zayn laughs. He leans closer to him, eyes hooded. “I’m sure we can find other reasons to make you stay.”

Liam purses his lips.

“We can start now.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> [tumblr](http://zenamored.tumblr.com)


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